


Tergiversating Affections

by truc



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Betrayal, Choice, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Family, Feelings, Friendship, Grieving, Holding On, Jealousy, Living, Love, Love Triangle, M/M, Mourning, Moving On, Resurrection, Time - Freeform, alternative universe, crossroad, dying, justice league - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truc/pseuds/truc
Summary: Clark Kent wakes up one day to realize that Superman and Clark Kent have been dead for a year. His fiancee, Lois Lane, has moved on.





	1. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark comes back to life.

Everything hurts, is the first conscious thought Clark can remember having.

It's strange; his mind drifts about while his body aches in a way he rarely ever felt. He feels drained like a deflated ballons abandoned in a sewer. He's sure he even smells awful; his mouth certainly feels pasty. His ears buzz uncontrollably.

Clark tries to breathe, but he still feels suffocated, stranded in an unresponsive body. He focuses on the image of his fiancee smiling at him from the confines of his mind. Lois, he thinks, Lois, I'm coming back to you. His hands twist at the revitalizing thought. He promised her he'd come back, notwithstanding Doomsday's ambitions and strength.

He forces his eyes open, yet, everything's still dark. He can see he's in a room that looks a lot like a hospital with the dismayed white walls and the clean and nauseating aseptic smell.

His limbs are unrestrained, however, Clark understands he cannot be in a position for boundless optimism; any foe, be it Captain Boomerang or Riddler, would be able to end his life right now. "The only way you managed to survived until now with your recklessly heroic behaviour is that you are almost invulnerable," Bruce had once admonished him. Clark grimaces, both at the thought and pain from his meagre movements. Now wasn't the time to ponder his mistakes. He's sure he'll get chewed on after he's out of trouble.

Clark tries to will his legs to move. One involuntary spasmodic movement sends him over the bed or whatever he had been lying on. The fall hurts as if the floor had been Kryptonite. He has not often felt this vulnerable and useless in his life.

All thoughts of subtilities abandoned, Clark painfully crawls towards the exit. He stares at the door handle all the way above him, taunting him with a possibility he can't even reach for. Clark's mind wanders as he lies unthinkably there in the middle of somewhere he doesn't even recognize. Breathe, he orders himself in a voice that sounds eerily like Batman, you need to figure out where you are. Unfortunately, breathing also takes away all of his remaining energy. He drifts away in a barely coherent dream about his Pa, dead for years, lifting him like a sleepy child to be brought to his bed.

The next time he wakes up, he feels much better; the clinging cloud of weakness is dissipating under the concentrated rays of the sun. The place also feels familiar.

"Kal?" Di's gentle voice captures his attention.

"Mmm?"

He feels her cold hands touching his forehead delicately in a way he'd always seen her do with human beings- in a way he also touches the comparably weaker beings. "How are you feeling?"

Clark leans into the touch, "Mmm... Better."

He feels her hesitate before she questions, "How's your strength?"

He leisurely opens his eyes, "Mmm..." She looks so tenderly beautiful with the black air highlighted by the strong sun rays. Even though he isn't exactly sure how long he'd been out of it, his heart had missed her gentle and righteous soul.

"Don't know," he finally mumbles to his friend.

She nods, her eyes trained on him as if she had forgotten how he looked like. For the longest time, they simply sit in silence, letting him regain his strength.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he hears the Watchtower's medic's door open and Clark turns his head in that direction to note Flash, Green Arrow, Green Lantern and Black Canary rush in.

"He's alive?!?" he hears Flash exclaim over the cacophony of noise filtering into his ears.

"He is," Clark can hear Diana's smile in her kind voice.

Everyone starts talking at once and Clark winces at the ensuing chaos.

He hears Diana's serious voice cut in, "He needs quiet." Clark hears the others want to contest her diagnosis, but she seems determinate in her stance, "Give us an hour. He should be able to meet everyone then." Everyone leaves with smiles.

Clark hears himself ask, "Lois?"

Diana takes his hand in a reassuring manner, "We've already contacted her. She'll be here in an hour."

"Ma?"

"We've explained the situation. She's waiting for you to teleport over there after you have finished saying hi to everyone."

"Mmm..."

Diana lets him digest that before she continues, "Kal, there's something you should know before you meet everyone in the meeting room."

He looks at her in interest, feeling more and more power coursing through his body.

Diana cards her unoccupied hand into his hair, "You've been dead for a year."

He frowned, "Uh?"

"Doomsday killed you, Kal, a year ago."

He lets that sink in, "You buried me?"

She slightly bows her head, "We held Superman's funeral and your mother held Clark Kent's funeral a year ago."

He swallows, "How am I still alive?"

Di smiles, "It's a miracle we're all glad to have witnessed."

"How?" he insists.

Her smile falters, "Bruce has a theory that when Lex Luthor stole your body a week ago, your corpse got exposed to sunlight and it reactivated the previously depleted reserves of energy, enabling you to resurrect."

Clark sits up in alarm, "Luthor stole my body?"

"He did," and she quickly adds in, "But he didn't get a chance to modify your body. Bruce stole it back within twelve hours of the theft. He said Luthor had 'evil' plans to attend to before focusing on you." Twelve hours. Bruce had to have planted a tracker on his body. Clark wasn't sure he should be furious or relieved at his best friend's paranoia.

Clark looks around the room, "Where is he anyhow?" At her blank look, Clark clarifies, "Bruce, I mean, not Luthor."

She pinches her lips like she was disappointed about their friend's behaviour, "He took care of all the health tests with J'onn, then, he had to attend to something urgent. He promised he'll come back later on. J'onn is crosschecking the results one last time to verify there are no problems." Clark winces at the implication he's somehow become a zombie or vampire.

Di gives him a hand squeeze, "Don't worry. All the tests point to the same conclusion: you are fine. Bruce just insisted on quintuple-checking the results."

"Mmm..."

"Do you need more sleep? We can put over your meeting with everyone else until you feel better," Di suggests with a hint of worry.

Clark blinks away his distraction, "No, I'm fine. I'm just wondering what I missed."

Diana gives him another squeeze, "I'm sure Hal and Oliver are compiling lists of important events you missed."

Clark lifts an eyebrow at that, "Sporting events?"

She laughs.

They sit in companionable silence. Clark lets the rays return him to his full strength.

Sometime later, Diana assesses him with her gaze. "Are you sure you are up for this?"

He nods, "I'm sure. Besides, I think everyone wants to see proof I'm really alive."

She helps him up and he feels strangely reinvigorating. It doesn't feel as if his body had been lying under six foot of ground for a year. He tries to forget the recurring thoughts of being nonhuman when it comes to his body's peculiar traits.

He walks to the meeting room, Diana following closely behind.

He swallows nervously before opening the door.

His gaze immediately falls on precious, one-of-a-kind Lois.

Before anyone can make a move, Lois is swept in Clark's unstoppable embrace.

The warmth in the petite woman seems to permeate all the way to his heart, accelerating its rate in a paroxysmal rhythm. Her arms gather around him and pressed so hard it would have hurt anyone but Superman. For a moment, there's no one in the room but Lois and her comforting jasmine smell. Clark's lips find hers the same way raindrops find the ground: inevitable and crashing. He senses a brief moment of hesitation on her part- one, nobody but someone with superspeed would have noted- before she is responding in kind, pure-encompassing love.

It no longer matters that Clark had been dead. He is now reunited with the love of his life, with his own beating heart.

He does not know how long they kissed, but the catcalls had ended a long time before they separate to breathe.

"Lois," he embraces her closer to his chest, her body still fitting perfectly against his.

She smiles in his chest, "I missed you so much, Clark."

"I missed you, too," He answers almost in a whimper.

After a moment, he releases her to examine her more attentively. She's clearly missing sleep but the shine in her eyes is still as heated as the last time he had seen her. Her hands trace his face in a stupor, "You're really alive."

"I am," Clark answers. Then and only then does Clark listen to the noise in the room outside of their private little bubble. He releases Lois and turns to the rest of the room.

Flash ambushes him in a sudden hug that Diana, Oliver, Dinah, Hal and a stoic J'onn J'onzz turn into a suffocating group hug. After a heartwarming half an hour of conversation with his colleagues, Clark turns to see Lois smiling happily as she leans quietly against a wall.

"Kal needs to rest," Diana cuts in, thankfully shooing everyone but Lois out of the room. On her way out, Clark gives her a small thankful smile that she responds with a smirk.

Clark steps closer to his fiance and takes her in his arms and childishly spins her around. "Clark!" she yells out with some fake annoyance at being held like a doll.

Clark giggles. She always pretends to hate this, but he knows she secretly enjoys it. Effectively, she starts laughing as he turns even faster.

As he slowly comes to a stop, the laughter dissolves into a strange silence.

"Clark," Lois starts in a serious tone that contrasts with their previous lightheartedness, "There's something you should know."

Clark nuzzles his head against her head, "Mmmm?"

"I am dating someone."

Clark inhales her tantalizing smell. He can't help himself but smile, "You're dating me."

She steps back, disentangling herself from him, "You died."

Clark blinks at her in confusion, "And?"

She looks sad as she gazes up at him, "I'm dating someone else now."

Clark finally understands what she is trying to say, "You're not breaking up with them to be with me again?"

"No."

"I..." Clark struggles to find the right way to say what he means, to grasps what Lois means through his cloudy confusion, "We were together for five years, Lo. We are meant to be together. We are set to marry one another."

"We were," she echoes with a sad smile.

Clark passes one hand through his hair, his throat struggling to keep open, "What changed?"

She gently takes one of his hands in hers, "You died."

He squeezes her hand, "That doesn't have to change... what we had."

She softly corrects him, "I saw you die. How could it not change everything for me?"

Clark hears the truthfulness in her voice. He vacillates. His reality is unravelling under his feet. 

"Who?" he finally asks in a trembling voice. 

"Clark..."

"Who are you dating?" It's unsteady as it comes out of his mouth, not with jealousy or even curiosity: it's simply heartbrokenness he can't even bother to hide. 

There's a hesitation before his former fiancee responds, "Do you really want to know it now? The only reason I told I was dating someone else so soon after your resurrection was that I didn't want you to get disappointed by my reactions." 

Clark stares at his feet. 

"Clark..." he feels the gentle pressure of his former fiancee's hand on his hand, "Your mother is waiting for you on the farm. Don't you want to see her?" He nods and Lois slowly drags him to the teleporting room. There, Clark blankly stares at the teleporting plate. 

"Lois," he starts uneasily. 

"Yes?" 

"...Is it really over?" he pleads, eyes still fixed on his exit rather than on the love of his life who, at least from his perspective, just broke up with him. 

She releases his hand, "Yes, Clark. It's over."

There's a beat before she adds, "I'm happy you came back. Never ever doubt that."

"Can we... kiss one last time goodbye?" he requests. 

Instead of answering him with words, she dives in, wrapping her arms against his neck and kissing him. The love she had invested in their reuniting kiss is still there but there is an overwhelming sense of melancholy and finality inserted in this one. He responds in kind with yearning and sadness. Their lips separate as terminal as the last hammered nail in Clark's coffin.

Clark's eyes focus on his ex-fiancee until his ears acknowledge Bruce's heartbeats in the same room. The Kryptonian lifts his head to see Batman's unwavering gaze focused on him. When Batman notices the reciprocated scrutiny, he gives a small nod and disappears into the shadows, his cape fleetingly fluttering behind him.

"Clark?" Lois's perplexed voice drags him back to her. 

"Yes?" 

"Are you okay? You seem distracted," Lois questions. Her head is tilted exactly as she does when faced with a puzzle.

Clark does not mention his best friend's brief appearance, preferring to let his ex-fiancee think this moment had been theirs only.

"I should see Ma. I'm sure she cooked a feast."

Lois nods and steps back, "Go. Call me whenever you're ready to. I didn't change my number."

Clark walks on the teleporting plate. His heart feels heavy and caged as he departs, however, there is something startlingly reassuring to know Lois had kept the same phone number. 

He has to believe some things never change.


	2. Hades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hell breaks loose?

"Clark!" He only hears the cry and he finds himself pressed into a mess he figures is a woman.

"Ma!"

"I missed you so much," his mother hugs him even closer. He cradles the considerably weaker mother's back into himself.

"I did too..." Neither move out of the searing embrace for what simultaneously feels like hours and seconds. Then, the woman steps back, vice-gripping his arms as she does, and stares at him in wonder, "My son's alive."

"Ma..." he feels the tears on his cheeks more than he consciously knows he is crying.

"It's going to be al'right, son," she pats him on the back, exactly in the same way she had reassured him he wasn't a monster when he was fourteen.

Somehow, they find themselves in the kitchen with food heaped on the table. Clark is ravenous enough to taste every type of comfort food his mother laid on the table. Without his powers, this display would have spelt the end of him. Ma explains everything that had happened in town since his death.

"Do you remember airheaded Tessa? She outdid herself this time. Two months ago, she stole away with her boyfriend in the middle of the night but took a left turn on the Lakeside park road when she should have gone on the highway. When the sun rose, she was back in town to fill her car again and her boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Nila tells me he's now flirting with girls in Miller and telling 'hem they better have a sense of direction if they want to elope with 'im."

Clark feels the food settling in his stomach and his mother's gossip making him drowsy. Here and there, he makes a pertinent remark until he's reduced to incoherent mumbling, which his mother takes as a sign it's time for him to sleep.

He's asleep before his head even hits the pillow. Thankfully, no dreams haunt his sleep.

The next time he's awake, he sits on the porch of his mother's house and just looks at the shifting clouds.

"What're you doing?" his mother asks him in an amused tone.

"I'm looking at the clouds," Clark responds a bit more seriously.

"Did you notice there are a turtle and a hare racing?" his mother gestures to two clouds. Pa and Clark had often played that guessing-game when he was younger.

Clark laughs, "That's obviously a cow and a horse, Ma."

She squints at him, "Shows you've transformed 'nto a city dweller; cows and horses don't hang together."

There's no warning before he shivers uncontrollably. His mother's paradoxical strong arms gather him, "What's the matter, hon?"

"Lois told me everything, Ma..."

"Let's let me prepare you a hot chocolate. That'll warm you up."

Clark sits at the table until his mother settles on the seat next to his. He takes a sip and a second one for courage before he starts inquiring, "Ma, how could she?"

His Ma's face becomes a complicated expression, "Hon, are you sure you're ready to talk about it?"

He waits a moment, "Ma, I thought what Lois and I have is the love of a lifetime, yet, she doesn't seem to understand..."

A moment passes by before she adds, "You've missed a lot, Clark. I know it's hard for you, but I suggest taking your time and letting her have some space in the meantime. It can't be easy for her too."

His mother had never led him astray, however, Clark does not think he can just let the matter go, "You don't understand, Ma. She chose to stay with... him. Even knowing I was back."

Ma tilts her head, "She did?"

Clark's mind cogs forward; his brain catching the clues his mother had let him have. She had known about Lois dating someone else. Comprehension dawns on him.

"They came here together, didn't they?" Clark can't entirely keep the hurt and betrayal from his voice. The space between him and his mother seems to swiftly decrease until it feels as suffocating as a crypt.

Ma stiffens, "Clark, you should be glad they came to be together after your death."

Glad.

Some horrid presentiment infiltered his stomach, his mind, his heart and his soul.

They came together to Smallville to see Martha. Clark and Ma had known the mysterious person before Clark's death.

The most obvious choices flash in his mind at superspeed. There are only so many options.

Work.

Perry White. Married. Boss. Never came to Smallville before.

Jimmy Olsen. Not Lois's type. Never came to Smallville before.

His other work.

Hal Jordan. On and off with Carol. Only came once to Smallville (in an emergency). Not Lois's type.

Wally West. Came a few times to Smallville. Dubiously Lois's type?

...however, that seems to stretch things to suppose he and Lois were together.

Ma calls his name worriedly, "Clark?"

Clark bristles, "I... have to go." He flies away before she can tell him no.

Flying normally felt like being weightless and optimist. Today, it's not fast enough, not strong enough to hold him together. 

It's not hard to know where to go.

Zeus once threw the dice and won the sky. Everyone knew Zeus had cheated but Hades still accepted the kingdom of the dead and the below as his domain.

As Superman leaves his domain and enters his brother's, he can feel himself tremble not at his brother's splendid cavern, haunted by more memories than anyone should keep, but rather at his own thunderous feelings beating hard in his chest.

His brother is alone at his throne, working at his neverending task of sifting through the good and the bad.

Superman still dressed as Clark Kent, floats a few inches from the ground, seeking higher ground physically in an analogy he prefers not to delve on.

For once in his life, Bruce, sans his cowl, turns around without any prompting. "Clark," he mutters, his subdued raspy voice betray more feelings than Superman is ready to face.

The silence deepens as Clark grinds his teeth, "You're dating Lois." It's not even gentle enough to be an accusation; it resonates like a detached verdict against the cavernous setting.

Bruce grips his armchair, thus answering Clark's question.

If Lois had broken his heart, Bruce has broken his trust, Clark thinks as he can't help himself from hurting.

Clark clenches his fists, "You... How could you?"

Bruce stands up, any prior traces of softness falling away. The innate stubborn hardness of Bruce transpires through, "That's none of your business."

Clark has to close his eyes for a moment in order to avert burning the infuriating man, "You've always known what Lois means to me, Bruce. Don't lie to me. Was it all a lie...? Was she always the one you've...?" When he opens his eyes, he sees Bruce's piercing eyes fixed on him.

And that cold detachment is more than enough for Clark's tenuous control to fall apart. He bangs his hand through a case glass near him, raining shards all across the floor. A black sour taste invades his mouth, "That's what you always say. Nothing about you is nobody's business but your own."

At Bruce's impassive gaze on him despite the damages, Clark knows he needs to do more to get a suitable reaction, "If I break everything in here, who's business will it be?"

Bruce does not even deign reply. Clark punches through the dinosaur, toppling it over in a loud groaning noise.

Still, Bruce just stands there, uncaring, impassive and hard-headed.

Clark knows it's irrational childishness, but he feels a visceral satisfaction at melting away the giant penny and breaking the endless heteroclite assembly of Bruce's memories that are not his: that wasn't affected by his death.

Bruce simply asks with the same impatience he'd show an incompetent amateur criminal, "Are you done?"

Clark hates his indifference and scorn so much it burns his insides, it rattles his mind and it shakes his heart. He hates himself for the wreckage he petulantly inflicted on his friend's home.

"Can't you explain, Bruce, why?"

There enough of a plea in there for this display of ice and fire to stop, for this wanton destruction to cease. It's the only olive branch he can extend at this time.

Unfortunately, if there is one area in which Bruce is unforgiving, it's feelings.

"No."

There's one last mean streak of anger pushing Clark's demolition to its ultimate limit; he tears apart Jason Todd's glass case.

The shattered pieces clatter on the floor before the silence settles uncomfortably over them.

Clark notes his friend's gaze on the display of his biggest failure, of his biggest regret. Bruce's voice is now forbidden as he reiterates, "Are you done?"

It's shame that circulates inside of Clark's heated bloodstream and makes him blush. "I..."

For a moment, his mouth finds no words to accompany his uncharacteristic loss of composure. "Sorry" does not encompasses the hurt and rejection he feels. Bruce had not even given him any 'memory' space in his cave at his death. That's a vacuum that leaves him breathless. Anger does not adequately translate the feelings he now feels when he remembers Batman's nod in the Watchtower teleporting room. It now felt like that moment had been tainted. Pain does not exactly explain the relief he feels in his chest at seeing his friend acting like himself. In short, Clark's feelings bleed into each other, leaving him bereft of his faculties.

It's the only explanation for the words that spouts from his mouth, "I can't believe you convinced her to stay with you when we both know that before too long you'll fail this relationship like you've done with all your others. I don't even know why you're pretending to try when we both know how this ends."

Bruce's eyes don't waver from Jason's damaged suit.

Superman, disappointed by the utter lack of reaction, flies away to his Fortress of Solitude to escape the stifling silence of his brother's realm.

It's from there he calls on Di for help. She's amazing and understanding... Or, more to the point, she's not Lois, nor Bruce nor his Ma.

She comes in person, helpfully listening to his silence.

"How were my funerals?" he finally breaks the ice.

Diana looks sad as she says, "Beautiful. Poignant."

"Tell me about them," he asks as he leans forward.

And she does, "The Metropolis ceremony was grand. Heroes and dignitaries from all over the world attended. They made a statue of you and placed it in the park to immortalize what Superman stood for. As for your Smallville one, your coworkers from the Daily Planet attended as well as a big portion of Smallville. Your mother and Lois organized it to be traditional and tasteful."

"Did Lois also attend to the one in Metropolis?"

Diana nods, "She did. She even offered to bring your mother along. Your mother refused and told her that losing a son was sadder than the world losing a hero." Clark had once seen another important person in his life heartbroken at their kid's funeral. He vividly remembers the traces it leaves on a parent and he resolved himself to be nicer to his mother, especially after the way he just flew away without warning.

Clark feels himself dig in his fingers into his skin, knowing full well he should leave it at that. He loses his internal battle when he hears himself hesitate to pronounce," Bruce?"

Diana assesses him before clarifying, "What about him?"

Clark swallows his saliva, hoping to get rid of the feelings that threaten to overwhelm him, "Which one did he attend?"

Diana gently shakes her head, "You know how he is, Kal."

"What do you mean?" Clark replies, feeling the tightening of his throat.

"He didn't attend any of them," Diana's words stab through the part of him who was feeling guilty with his behaviour earlier that day.

At his betrayed look, Diana benevolently responds with her best soothing voice, "You know how he is with funerals, Kal. Especially after Jason's... " He feels the warmness of her hand on his arm, "He cares, Kal. He does."

If only he could share her sentiment. Right now, he can't even convince himself being alive is such a great outcome.


	3. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets some time to understand Lois's and Bruce's relationship.

Clark spends the day looking over his Fortress, making sure everything is as it should. He wants distance, just to better understand his predicament.

Everything is spotless. He remembers it's in the AI's functions to keep things clean whether or not its owner is present. The bitterness he feels because even his Fortress doesn't need him almost overwhelm him. 

He knows he shouldn't take it as another analogy of his passing. 

He sits in the zoo section of the Fortress, simply watching the last of their kinds, animals and plants alike, living under their specific climate. Clark hugs his knees to his chest and leans his head on his knees. His eyes feel drowsy.

Somehow, he can picture a flashy showman introducing him in a cage to his audience, "Everyone, it is my greatest honour to present you the last Kryptonian specimen in the world!" 

He could hear the crowd applaud with enthusiasm. 

"He was once celebrated as Superman, the superb Metropolis hero! He was shiny, bright and loved! He was the leader of the revered Justice League and was destined to marry the famous Lois Lane!" 

Then, the showman's generic face mutes into Lex's unforgettable one, a sarcastic smirk on the edge of his lips," He then died for a year. He has since been unable to cope with the world. Nowadays, this monster has regressed so much he can't even speak any human language! He simply grunts and moans like an animal when his basic needs are met."

Lex gestures to the crowd, "The Government has been kind enough to keep this specimen in a zoo to show the world the foolishness of thinking itself human, of wanting to be human despite its alien nature."

Everyone claps and yells. They look at him and throw him peanuts. Clark hides behind his hands, behind his legs, in hope to cover his shame away. He hears them muttering away about his nakedness, commenting on how they would like to prostitute his body. Lex is making some secret deals with the highest bidders for them to taste this "being."Clark opens his mouth to say he's only Lois's, but, instead, sees her and Bruce looking into each other's eyes in the bleachers, looking like a Grease version of themselves. They hold hands and whisper sweet nothings. Clark screams.

He promptly wakes up sprawled on the Fortress's floor and hears the AI system announcing a visitor. Clark shakes the last of his disturbing dream away and approaches the entrance with a pit in his stomach. 

He sees her from afar as she speedwalks towards him, eyes blazing. She's the beautiful storm, whirling to him, sizzling of energy. 

"Clark," she declares when she's still a few feet away, "What the hell were you thinking?" 

"Uh?" 

She's frowning with a seriously broiling anger while she jabs her finger on his chest, "I don't care for macho posturing; I'm no one's possession. Bruce and I both made the decision to get together after your death. How dare you condemn him for that?" 

Clark swallows apprehensively; he's only seen Lois this protective about him. 

She's the unexpected storm that hits you when your outdoors, the winds that knock you over and the rains that drowns your tent. Nobody's safe when she's in that mood.

"I...," Clark starts with a stammer, "You're angry because of the cave?" 

Her jabbing finger pushes into his chest and Clark hopes she's not physically hurting herself on his chest. "I could care less about his stupid toys. That place needed to be thrashed a long time ago," Her eyes burn in a profoundly anchored anger, "You can't just push all the blame on him and you should have known better! He's your best friend and he saved your life. Either get together with him or move on!"

Clark's face grew blank, "Get Together? You're the one I want to be together with, Lois."

He has no clue the tempestuous glint in her eye could increase, "We're not getting together. Don't take me for a fool, Clark. You and he may have danced around the issue during the time we were dating, however, there's a very good reason Bruce and I never really got along back when we were dating, Clark." 

The insinuation burns Clark's throat, "I don't know what you are trying to tell me, Lois, but Bruce is a brother to me, nothing more."

She narrows her eyes, her finger still stabbing him in the chest, "I didn't know you had an incest kink." He flinches. "Toxic masculinity may have stopped both of you from acting on whatever is between you; I don't care. What I do care about is Bruce. You don't get to play the cheated lover with him; you don't get to get him that upset because you can't figure out how you feel about this situation. He's got enough guilt in his life without inventing some imaginary slights. We took the decision together. You don't get to act as if I'm an object."

Clark feels his chest constricting, as he stays motionless bent backwards under the piecing verbal attacks and physical presence from Lois. He feels as powerless as always when he's faced with her relentlessness. 

"I... don't know what he told you, Lois," Clark defends. 

Her eyes burn holes in his head, "Don't play dumb, Clark, he didn't say anything. He just punched his punching bags until his hands were bloody rags. I don't know what you told him, except that whatever you told him was bad enough for him to resume his self-destructive and antisocial behaviour."

Guilt wells in Clark's stomach. 

Some part of him rejoices at the news Bruce hasn't talked to Lois. He'd never talk to Clark when he went into that mood. It would have felt unfair if he would have revealed anything to Lois now. When he realizes his reasoning, he feels doubly as guilty. 

Lois slowly retreats from Clark's personal bubble and retracts her offending hand. Now, she looks more sad and upset and furious. Even her tone is subdued as she says, "Don't ruin everything that was once good, Clark. You mean a lot to me and you always have. You're a good man, Clark. I understand it's hard to wake up to a changed world, but there's only so much leeway I can give you when you hurt someone I care about."

Something deep in Clark twists in pain at her words. His eyes find the floor as he changes the subject, "How did you get here?"

Lois gives a small chuckle, that might be interpreted as a peace offering, "Batman owns lots of portals. How do you think he gets here as fast as he does?" 

Clark quirks an eyebrow up with a quizzed expression, "He gave you access to his portals?"

Lois shakes her head, "I didn't give him much choice. I got him to install one in Metropolis."

Clark's lips curl up. Bruce got outclassed by Lois. That was funny, no matter how bizarre all of their relationships had gotten stuck in the quagmire. 

They look at one another in silence until Clark softly utter, "I'm sorry." 

"Give your apologies to Bruce, not to me," She answers with her own pragmatic tone, "And do it soon."

He nods in agreement. He will do it. Even if he's scared, tired and depressed. Because that's the right thing to do, and, at the end of the day, he always has to make the right calls. That's how his mother raised him. Be nice to everyone; that's the only way you can create a better world.

He offers his hand, "Truce?" 

She does not hesitate to shake it. After they finished airing their issues, their fights always ended with a handshake (when they were friends) or a kiss (when they were lovers). It was their return to normal, their ways to deal with their conflicts in a healthy way. 

Her hands feel even smaller than he can remember in his hands. They are still as soft as ever. 

She releases his hands and tenderly says, "Next time you do something like this, I'm bringing Kryptonite with me."

He waves her off and looks at the Fortress wall in front of himself. Maybe he had some misunderstanding about Lois's and Bruce's relationship. It's time to clear them. 

He flies to his mother's house and finds her tacking laundry on the clothesline. She's patient with him when he explains his request. She does not even comment on how he last flew away in the middle of their last conversation. 

"She punched 'im in the face at a Wayne foundation gala," Ma slowly explains. 

"What?" That really wasn't what Clark had expected.

Ma continues on her work, "That's how she met 'im after your funeral, hon."

"Why?" Lois may not be reluctant to physically harm people, but she normally did it for good reasons. 

"She had a lot of difficulty focusing on work after you died," Ma surprisingly enough reveals, "Her boss kept sending her on fluff pieces because she insisted she didn't need a break. Covering a Wayne foundation gala was one of those fluff pieces."

Clarks helps her tack her clothes, waiting for the rest. 

"Alfred told me it was the opposite for Bruce. Man wouldn't stop working. His dad admitted to drugging 'im a few times so he could sleep. He was worried about 'im. All the kids were too."

"He'd do his Batman's stuff and his playboy things back to back. Wouldn't stop to live in between." 

Ma finishes putting her clothes up and gestures Clark to the bench under the tree's shade. She takes her hobby basket with her. They both sit and she ties a slip knot on her knitting needle. As she expertly starts her casting on (laying the foundation of her knitting), Ma continues, "Lois told me she hated being pitied, but she still couldn't handle being a reporter with you freshly buried. At the Gala, she saw your best friend happily flirting with two or three girls, less than three weeks after your death. She snapped and punched 'im in the face."

Clark could remember all the Galas in which he had seen his best friend's "Brucie" and he could understand why someone would find his facade offensive and irritating.

"Don't worry, Clark," Ma says as she looks up from her knitting, "She didn't really hurt 'im even if he didn't exactly evade it completely. Anyhow, that's how she got suspended from her job."

Clark blinks at her as she resumes her pattern, "Bruce did that?"

Ma snorts amusingly, "Will you be a dear and spun out some more wool for me to use?" Clark took some length out and spun it between his arms to help stretch the material. 

"As I was saying, Perry had to temporarily suspend her from work because the pictures of her punching her boss were published in some of the major newspapers in the country. He ordered her to apologize directly for her action. I guess 'e figured it was part of her mourning process or somet'ing."

Ma continues knitting her row, "So, she went to Wayne Manor, rang the doorbell and saw Alfred. He told her Bruce wasn't seeing anyone. She insisted, maybe out of spite of having to apologize. He showed her the way to the Batcave and sent her down. According to Alfred, they fought again, although, this time, they found out they were both separately inv'stigating your leads."

"My what?" Clark interrupts. 

"Leads," his Ma casually pursues, "Bruce was studying your Superman leads; Lois your reporter ones."

Clark frowns, still perplexed. 

His Ma pauses her knitting to watch him, "You know, your stories? Or your supervillains' plottings? I think they both wanted to finish your life's work."

Now, he swallows, torn between relief and sadness.

"That night, they decided to team up and take the hints hidden in your Superman's and Clark Kent's investigations to finish all of your loose ends."

"They started dating?" Clark asks, scared Ma would say everything was settled within a few weeks after his death.

Ma shakes her head as she continues her knitting pattern, "No. That took a while longer. Lois was suspended from work and she worked full time on closing all of your loose ends with Bruce. They're both driven by work, but even Lois had to force 'im to eat and sleep because he was overdoing it."

Clark remembers it being part of his job after Jason's death. Alfred needed a break too at that time. So, Clark would come by and try, unsuccessfully, to curtail Bruce's workaholic's torturous tendencies. He'd been standing behind the stoic man and he'd helped Alfred drag him away from his death before Tim's welcomed appearance in the Manor. 

Some part of Clark is glad Lois didn't let Bruce dig himself to an early grave. Another part of him chafes at how replaceable he is. Same tricks. Different results.

Ma coughs. Her son let the wool he'd spun between his hands down and puts his hand on her back, "Are you okay?"

She nods weakly. She's always been the strong pillar of their family; her unwavering faith and her kindness made her Clark's biggest emotional support in life. 

She's old, he knows. Now that her overjoyed reaction of hers concerning his resurrection had passed, he could observe the toll his death had taken on her. His heart clenches. Had his Pa felt something similar when he suffered his heart attack? How would he survive her death?

"It took 'hem seven months to get their acts together. They came here, hon, because Lois had badgered Bruce into facing your tombstone. It took Bruce about the same amount of time to push Lois back 'into the fast-paced life of a full-time reporter. They actually finished your leads by that time. Got' started on new ones together, too." 

Ma dropped her knitting pattern on the bench, "That's how they got together, Clark. They leaned on each other to git over your death. You dying was hard on ever'one." 

Clark caresses his mother's back in gentle circles as if to make it up for his death.


	4. Poet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark apologizes to Bruce.

This time, Clark takes his time planning how to apologize to Bruce. He cannot just fly in without an invitation.

He rings the Manor's doorbells. Alfred smoothly opens the door and looks at him in the strangely blank way he does when he thoroughly disapproves of someone but he's "too polite" to show it. Clark gulps. This is the first time he's on the receiving side of the gaze. It hurts more than he wants to admit.

"Hi, Alfred. It's nice to see you again."

"Sir." Clark flinches at the name. Alfred has even dropped his last name. That could not mean anything good.

"May I speak to Bruce?" Clark continues with the same courage that made him Superman.

Instead of showing him in, Alfred answers, "Wait a moment, Sir. I'll check with him." And he closes the door in Clark's face. That, too, had never happened to Clark before.

Clark can verify if the butler is actually asking Bruce, however, he figures that would not regain him any brownie points with Alfred. Instead, he simply fidgets with his standard plaid's sleeves. Who was he supposed to be nowadays? Should he just start over under another name as a reporter? Would it be too awkward to work at the Daily Planet even if someone gets "Clark Kent"'s death certificate revoked? Would it be stilted silences between Lois and him? Could he ever look at Bruce picking her up at the Daily Planet without feeling a stab in his heart? Could both Superman and Clark Kent resurrect at the same time? Would he endanger his mother by hanging around the house as Clark Kent? Someone was bound to notice him at one point. Where should he go?

Alfred opens the door, but not wide enough for Clark to enter, "Master Bruce is ready to see you." The emphasis on the name "Bruce" reads as a warning in Clark's mind.

The door opens more completely and Clark walks inside the Manor. He glances about. He is relieved to see no kids were present. It's not as if he dislikes seeing them; he really does not feel up to it right at this moment.

He follows Alfred to Bruce's study and he carefully avoids talking with the butler as he uses the secret passage to get to the Batcave. Alfred beckons him in. Clark sees the blame in his countenance and prefers to address it on another visit: Bruce is waiting.

He starts on the stairs, walking down in no hurry. It feels strange to descend the secret passageway by walking. As soon as he's almost at the bottom, he can easily distinguish his friend's form.

Bruce, like always, is in a dramatic mood. He's sitting at the Batcomputer, his back to the stairs and he's working. This time, he wears his cowl and even his gloves. He's in his modern armour, ready to ground opposition to dust. Clark can find no pity in the back facing him. Instead, the reporter glances at the room to take in the repairs; the glass has been picked up and the dinosaur has been repaired, but that's it. Jason's suit is still damaged; the Penny is still melted; the things Clark destroyed are still unusable.

Clark steps off the last step and slowly approaches a carefully neutral and busy Bruce Wayne.

"Bruce..."

The other man swivels around. His eyes are hidden and his jaw is taut.

It's a hard thing to say, however, Clark has always resolved himself not to let vanity get the better of him, "I'm sorry."

The sound echoes weakly in the immense cavernous space, finally completely dying down in the heavy silence that follows. 

The other man still barricades himself from the world with his armour. 

"For what?" Bruce finally snaps out. 

Clark shifts his weight. 

The truth is that he knows what needs to be included in an apology to be a "real" one: some demonstrated regret about a particular action you had control over, an acknowledgement of the pain you inflicted on someone and, finally, saying sorry. Simply saying sorry was horrible form as far as an apology was concern. His Ma would be appaled by his lack of manner. She'd say an apology without sincerity was a bigger slap in the face than no apology at all. Think before you say or do hurtful things, she'd also say. If you don't, fixing things is harder to do than avoiding being mean to someone. 

If there is one person Clark can be sure of their kindness, it wouldn't be anyone other than his mother. 

Clark looks Bruce in the cowl's white lenses as he speaks up, "I shouldn't have said you will ruin any relationship you are in. That's a lie. I shouldn't have told you to stop dating Lois."

"Isn't it what you want?" Bruce neutrally asks. 

"Yes," the Kryptonian cannot help but answer truthfully. 

Bruce assesses him a few moments before he turns back to his computer, "Is that all."

Yes. No. 

What can you say when your throat constricts and your internal organs feel like they are hemorrhaging? 

"Were you interested in her when she was dating me?" Clark painfully chooses to pry a corner of Pandora box open. 

There is no answer. Only a slight rise in Bruce's guardedness. 

Bruce is like a dragon with his gold when it concerns his feelings. He hoards them close to him without ever intending to make use of it. He even growls aggressively at anyone coming close to their location. 

"Why are you asking me that question, Clark," Bruce's harsh voice asks. 

What sort of answer can Clark give to that question? Curiosity? Worry? Interest? Uneasiness? 

"There are some things you've never wanted to be told," Bruce's words relentlessly resonates in the room even though they barely leave his mouth. 

Clark feels the accusation hit. "I didn't..."

"Don't lie, Clark. It doesn't suit you." There's something bitter in Bruce's voice. 

It hurts Clark to see Bruce in pain, so he averts his eyes. 

Maybe the dragon analogy wasn't about Bruce after all.

"Will you ever be able to see me if I'm with her?" Bruce asks. 

Clark wants to say no, wants to assure him he's strong enough to manage his feelings. Bruce had stayed as his best friend despite Lois and...

But Bruce says he doesn't want his lies. 

"I don't know."

Honesty and truth were sometimes the worst virtues to follow. 

Truth is he knows he will go back to being friends with Lois even if the transition will be harsh. Their relationship, no matter if it was as colleagues, friends and lovers, was always straightforward. It left no place for any ounce of ambiguity. Lois wouldn't have left any space for it. The answer concerning her was easy.

However, the question also included another person in it.

Bruce calmly states, "If you can't, I'll break up with her."

It burns. Suffocates him. 

"She's not like that, Bruce! She's special; she's Lois!" 

Bruce pushes himself up, his back still to Clark, when he hoarsely confirms, "I know." His voice is tight and determined as if he had gathered all his courage to accomplish one particular difficult task.

"Then, why would you say such a horrible thing? If you know how much I'm jealous of what I lost, of what you have, why would you throw it away? Lois will make your life hell if you 'sacrifice' yourself and she's sure she's not going back to me."

"I'm aware," Bruce monotonously repeats, "She did 'mention' it wouldn't work." What did he mean by that exactly?, Clark couldn't help asking himself.

"That's not what I'm trying to accomplish," Bruce adds after a pause, "This is my choice. If being her lover makes me lose your friendship, it's not worth it."

Clark's heart stops. 

He knows with complete certainty that if he opens his mouth and asks Bruce to stop dating Lois, his friend would in a heartbeat. It is not lip service. 

And it's too much. 

That's not how healthy relationships work. 

Nobody should dictate who you choose to include in your lives, no matter how much you disapprove of them. You can limit the amount you have in contact with them or stop contacting them, but nobody should have that much power over anyone else (except for parents and young children). 

Clark has always been aware he held power over Bruce. He just didn't realize how bad it was. And he hates his other realizations.

Bruce loves Lois. 

From what Ma told him, it was more of a pragmatic love that woke up to you every day; that made you live and thrived instead of surviving. Maybe the love wasn't the romantic feelings Clark held for Lois, but it wasn't a passing fancy either. 

Whatever connection Bruce and Lois had, it was deep, it was nourishing and it was equal; it was good for Bruce. 

For once, he wouldn't be betrayed by his lover. 

For once, Bruce's lover wasn't morally ambiguous. 

It was a healthy adult relationship. 

Clark looks at the damaged Robin suit. 

Bruce's life had always been unfairly hard. 

The former reporter blinks the tears that had been forming in his eyes. He could not ask Bruce to dump Lois just for his friendship. He knows how much of a jewel she is and how much she could help this man. Lois wanted to be with him.

Clark had always strived to be a good man. However, he could hardly think of a situation he was more hard-pressed to say the right thing. Bruce had asked him not to lie. 

"Don't worry about me, Bruce," Clark slowly whispers.

Bruce sharply turns around, mouth closed. 

Clark's Ma's words found their place in his mouth, "I'm glad you found each other when the times were hard."

Bruce doesn't point out the fact that Clark's face is a mess. The former reporter is thankful he does not. 

Retreat, his mind tells him. Retreat, his heart tells him. 

"I better go," Clark smiles awfully, he's sure, and he flies away, barely catching Bruce's soft response "Welcome back, Clark."

Clark flies too fast to enjoy it. This time, he heads straight for his safe place and he stays there a long time.

His Ma finally knocks on the abandoned barn's door; her usual sign to ask permission to enter even if the door is opened. 

"Hon? Are you okay?" 

Clark buries himself further into the heavy duvet he'd borrow from his Ma's home when he was a teenager. It had long since been used in the barn's attic. 

"..."

"Do you want company?" Ma asks. 

"Yes..." he mutters without enthusiasm. He is tired of crying and second-guessing all his actions. 

He hears her walk up the stairs and sit beside his head on the sofa. She gently plays with his hair, "What's wrong?"

Clark sighs, "Why is Lois the one who moves on and Bruce the one who can't let go?" 

Ma chuckles in a nice sort of way, "Hon, that's what you love about them. You've always b'en a poet. You've always admired real beauty. Lois, that girl, can plow through any problems. You gotta hang on tight if you don't mean to be left behind. Bruce, well, he's one to hold on everything that's dear to him. Can't let anything go. That's what you like in each."

Clark smiles and then it falters, "But, if it were the opposite, everyone would be happier."

Ma tsks him, "Who says you can't all be the happi'est? Maybe things look tough now, Clark, but if you stick long enough to som'thing, it gets easier."

Clark nods, unconvinced. 

Ma continues playing in his hair, "Your life back among the living just started. It's too soon to abandon hopes of romance."

Clark leans into her touch and mumbles, "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right. I'm your Ma."

Clark asks, eyes closed, "Does that mean you found someone for you?"

There is a silence before his mother replies, "Clark. I've been meaning to tell you..."

Clark's eyes fly open, "You found someone?"

Ma laughs, "My dead son came back to life. Does that count for som'thing?"

Clark can see the mirth in her eyes. She got him good. Well, two could play at that game. 

"Mmm... I seem to remember you playing matchmaker for me when I was younger. Maybe I should respond in kind. You're quite a catch, Ma. I don't think it would be hard to find you blind dates," Clark teases. 

His Ma's horrified face makes him explode with laughter. 

And just like that, Clark is thankful to be alive again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nominate Ma Kent as the MVP of this fic.


End file.
